Censored!
by Dude13
Summary: When a certain Foster's caretaker turns out to have a bit of a guttermouth problem, a particular eight year old strives to help her in her odd plight, resulting in...not exactly what they planned. [Oneshot]


The following one-shot fic is the result of what happens when one mixes boredom while sitting in front of their computer, after watching some of their favorite taped episodes of a certain show about a certain house full of certain imaginary beings.

Enjoy, nonetheless! Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I never have owned Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, nor will I ever in the future.

* * *

"…MISS FRANCES BRIDGETT FOSTER!" Mr. Herriman bellowed furiously at the top of his lungs. So great was his rage and so colossal was the volume of his angry roar, all of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends seemed to shake, as if it was struck by a tiny earthquake. 

Frances "Frankie" Foster however, failed to shriek back indignantly at her employer in protest, as she normally would have done in such a situation. In fact, the badly quivering young woman didn't utter so much as a frightened whimper, as her mouth hung agape and her eyes bulged in total shock and complete horror….

…At _herself_.

"M-Mr. Herriman," she stammered nervously, struggling to find her voice. "I…I d-didn't….oh geez, it was just a…p-please, you'd know I'd never, ever….it was just-"

"It was just _what_, young lady?" the elderly rabbit yelled sternly, abruptly cutting her off. "A mere slip of the tongue? A misunderstood grumble? A mere cough or sneeze that I simply mistook for something worse?"

Frankie flinched as his arm shot up so as to jab accusingly at her. "OR WAS IT ONE OF THE MOST ATROCIOUS CASES OF SHEER DISRESPECT I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE?" Mr. Herriman roared ferociously.

"I-"

"Oh, don't even _think_ you can weasel your way out of this with some feeble excuse, you rapscallion!" he continued, quivering with rage. "Never in all my life have I dealt with such serious insolence! Such disrespect! Such vile impudence! Such traitorous flippancy! Such…such…. such _language_!"

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it! Oh God, I didn't mean it!" Frankie babbled frantically, sweat pouring from her brow in her high anxiety. "It just slipped out, I _swear_! I-YOWCH!"

The girl squealed in pain as Mr. Herriman reached over and grabbed her firmly by the ear, handling the twenty-two-year-old as if she was a naughty toddler.

"Oooh, I think we've heard quite enough "swearing" out of _you _for today, Miss Frances!" he rebuked her sternly. Frankie squealed in discomfort as she was given a harsh tug on her earlobe.

"OW! Hey! Hey! Wait, wait! Where are you taking me?" she cried.

"The one place where such hooligans such as yourself belong!" Mr. Herriman barked back as he dutifully yanked her along. At this, Frankie's eyes bulged to the size of dinner plates, and immediately she began to struggle wildly, practically screaming in her utter dismay.

"EEEEEK! Not that! Not that! Oh, puh-_LEEZE_! Anything, anything but _that!_" she pleaded desperately. "No! It's so humiliating! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

"…Wait, wait, so he made you do _what_?" Mac cried in disbelief. 

"Stand in a corner near his office." Frankie groaned.

"For _how_ long?" Bloo chimed in, equally awed by the bizarre tale.

"Three…. hours….straight." the girl announced flatly in reply, starring haggardly at the ceiling.

The trio passed the next few minutes in a kind of awkward silence, Frankie wearily sprawled out over her bed, Mac resting his head gently against her stomach, and Bloo seated near her feet. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the small, brown-haired child scrambled up into a sitting position, frowning worriedly at his big sister.

"Uh….so…you want anything?" he whispered cautiously.

Frankie's baggy eyes darted in his direction.

"A hug would be nice." She whimpered, lifting her arms and gathering the child close, hugging him tightly as if he was a teddy bear. As she coddled the child close, Bloo sat up in his sat, scratching his head bewilderedly.

"Wait, wait…. I'm confused." He whined. "Why did Mr. H, Madame Foster's imaginary friend, make _you_, Madame Foster's granddaughter, stand in the _corner_? I mean c'mon, all you did was say one little curse word-"

"Because," Frankie sighed painfully, "I told you, I didn't swear in _front_ of him, I swore _at_ him. A _lot_."

The little imaginary friend eye's widened in mischievous joy. "You mean you actually went up to the big guy and you said-"

"Hey!" the girl cut him off with a low growl. "Do _not_ get any ideas, buster. First of all, I didn't mean to do it. Second, unless you want to stand facing a freakin' wall for three hours, two of which you really, really need to go to the bathroom, I strongly doubt it's something even _you_ want to try."

"Still, though….the corner?" Mac mused incredulously to himself. Frankie smiled weakly and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"_You_ just don't get in trouble a lot, so you don't really know." She managed to chuckle softly. "It's a basic punishment we use for friends who have misbehaved slightly, and that includes "bad" language. Of course," she added with a frown, " Mr. Law-and-Order wants to keep things running smoothly around here at all times, and he thinks one of the best ways to do that is to show that _no one's_ above house rules. Not even staff." She muttered grimly.

"Hey, I've spent more than my fair share of time facing the wall," Bloo interjected, "But seriously though…. _three hours_? I mean, I don't even think I've spent that much time-"

"Oh Bloo, it's not just about what I _did_, it's what I've been _doing_!" Frankie lamented sadly.

Mac shot her a quizzical look. "Um, could you explain that a little?"

"What's to explain? I've been a friggin' guttermouth lately, that's all!" the girl moaned unhappily. "You think this is the first time my big, fat mouth has gotten me into this kind of trouble?"

"Wait, wait!" Mac tried to interrupt, seriously confused. "You mean this isn't the first time you've-"

"You're at school most of the day, you don't know the half of it!" Frankie groaned, releasing her hold on him and letting herself fall back limply onto the bed. "You haven't seen it, but to be honest, I've been spending a _lot _of time in the corner. I can't help it! I don't know what's been wrong with me lately, but it just seems like that I….that I…."

Mac groaned and rolled his eyes. "Frankie…"

"Oh please, don't say anything!" the girl pleaded, clasping her hands over her face. "I already feel bad enough as it is that I've been saying stuff lately that would give a nun a heart attack. No need to rub it in that I'm currently the most foul-mouthed creature in Foster's!"."

"Frankie…why didn't you tell us you had a swearing problem?" Mac asked concernedly.

"Why can't I just keep my big, fat, pie-hole shut?" Frankie just lamented miserably.

"Yeah….and if olive oil comes from olives, then where does _baby oil_ come from?" Bloo mused out loud.

Immediately the room was thrown into a deafeningly awkward silence. After a few minutes though, Frankie scrambled into a sitting position to join along with Mac in shooting the little blob a pair of bewildered glares.

"Bloo…are you paying attention at all anymore?" she asked him flatly.

"For the last five minutes, I haven't heard a single thing." Bloo replied with a wide grin, puffing out his chest in pride.

Mac groaned in exasperation. "Great, just _great_. A clueless best friend and a big sister with anger-management issues, that's just what I need." He scoffed sarcastically.

"Pal, nothing personal….but will you please put a sock in it?" Frankie snapped.

* * *

"Frankie?" 

Mac called out innocently as he rattled the doorknob of the bathroom door. "Frankie, are you-"

"EEEEK!" The high-pitched squeal of dismay rang out clearly from the other side. "Keep it shut! Keep it shut! I just got out of the sho-"

"AUGH! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the eight-year-old apologized profusely, jerking his hand away from the knob as if he had accidentally touched burning-hot metal. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't-"

"It's okay, it's okay!" Frankie reassured him from inside the bathroom. "It's all right, pal, you're fine! You didn't see anything-"

"Yeah, _this_ time at least." The boy interjected solemnly, cheeks burning a sharp crimson in embarrassment.

"Yeah, I know." Frankie groaned. "So….what's up with you, anyway?"

"Well," Mac began, seating himself on the floor outside and digging out a small notepad. "After last night, I decided to see if I could help out with your little problem."

"_What_?" came the cry of disbelief.

"Yeah, see, if you didn't notice yet, I've been observing you all morning so I-"

"Oh, _fantastic_." Frankie grumbled sarcastically. "My own private little stalker and professional shrink, if only all girls my age were so lucky…."

"Hey, if you don't want me-" Mac muttered ruefully.

"No please, don't! I'm probably gonna need all the help I can get with this. You were saying, pal?" the redhead inquired from the other side of the door.

"Well, like I was saying," Mac explained, flipping through his notes. "I wanted to start off by watching you a little bit. Y'know, watching you go about your day to see if I could find any clues to what's the cause of your little problem."

"And, the result is…."

"Um…well…._nothing_, actually." The child admitted softly.

A long period of complete silence followed afterwards.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me." Frankie murmured in complete disbelief.

"Well, it's true!" Mac defended himself. "Honestly, I've watched you all morning, and I didn't see you say even _one _swear word or curse."

"Oh….really?" Frankie asked curiously.

"Yup, pretty much."

"But that doesn't make any…then why am I spending so much time in the…wait, what about when someone spilled that entire box of Cocoa Flakes at breakfast?"

"You didn't really think it was a big deal, remember? Plus, Wilt volunteered immediately to help you clean it up."

"Oh, right. Did I say anything about that mess on the second floor?"

"You grumbled a little bit, but nothing that could technically be called a swear word."

"Oh, _man_….hold on, what about when I was in the laundry room, and I-"

"No, see, that didn't count either, because-"

"Master Mac! Master Mac!" An all-too-familiar voice cut off the child in mid-explanation. Mac glanced up just in time to spot the large, well-to-do rabbit speedily hopping down the hallway.

"Master Mac, is that Miss Frances in there with whom you're conversing with at this very moment?" He asked casually, pointing towards the bathroom door.

"Well, yeah but-"

"Oh, thank goodness!" the elderly imaginary friend sighed in relief. "I was just looking for her, there's an urgent matter which requires her immediate attention! Miss Frances-"

"ACK! Wait, wait!" Mac cried frantically in protest, leaping to his feet. "Don't do it! She's not-"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Frankie's shriek of horror instantly reverberated loudly throughout the house as Mr. Herriman barged inside without a second thought.

"Oh, good gracious! I'm terribly sorry, I just-"

"AAA! What the _hell_ do you think you're _doing_, you peeping son-of-a-"

* * *

"Cold…cold….so very cold." Frankie muttered to herself through chattering teeth. Grimly, she wrapped her arms tightly around her towel-clad body in a feeble attempt to stop the shivers that wracked her sopping wet figure. 

"F-Frankie?" a familiar voice suddenly piped up innocently behind her.

"What is it, Mac?" Frankie grumbled, keeping her gaze fixated on her least favorite patch of wall in the entire house.

"Are you….um, you gonna be okay?"

"Yes Mac, I'm just dandy right now. I'm soaking wet, feeling absolutely frigid and I'm half-naked. Yet, despite all of that, I get to spend an unforgettable hour in this lovely little scenic spot of corner here after being yanked down here by the ear because of some unwisely-chosen words. So to answer your question, yes Mac, this is _exactly_ where I want to be." The shivering girl muttered sarcastically.

"Really?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK, BUSTER?" she snapped angrily, clenching her fists so tightly they turned chalk white.

However, the boiling rage surged through her body for only a brief moment before she felt soft terrycloth being gently shoved into the back of her hand.

"….I just thought that you…" Mac whimpered softly.

Frankie sighed heavily as she managed to snatch her bathrobe with one hand and give the child standing behind her a reassuring pat on the head with the other.

"No, no, please don't…I'm really, sorry Mac, it's just…well, this isn't quite where I want to be at the moment." She murmured apologetically.

Mac looked away modestly until she had thrown her robe on. "Well…I think it's safe to say that we know what's causing your uncontrollable swearing….and why you seem to get punished for it _every_ time."

"Yeah, I guess." Frankie sighed yet again, blowing a few soggy strands of hair from her eyes. "So how the heck am I gonna try and take care-"

"What is _this_?" someone barked sternly from behind closed office doors, causing the pair outside to jump simultaneously in fright.

"Oh no!" Mac squeaked in surprised horror, instinctively clamping onto Frankie's leg.

"Pal, _no_! What are you-" His guardian tried to warn him, but it was already far too late for any escape to be attempted.

"I thought I've made it clear that there's no conversing allowed when one is serving punishment! Oooh, when I get my hands on whoever's showing such an atrociously blatant disregard for house stature, I'll…."

With a look that could kill adorning his face, Mr. Herriman barged through his office doors and stormed out into the foyer.

"All right! Where are you? My ears don't lie, I know very well that I-"

He quickly cut himself off in mid-scold however when he saw that he was simply wasting his breath. Glancing about wildly, his line of vision failed to pick up a trace of any mysterious offender. That is, except the twenty-two-year-old culprit standing obediently in her corner not too far away.

"What on earth…? Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman said accusingly. "Where is-"

"I've still got at least forty-five minutes left, Mr. H." Frankie interjected innocently, dutifully keeping her gaze straight ahead.

"Oh….well, indeed you do." Mr. Herriman agreed rather dumbly. "But I thought-"

"Don't worry, I'll get right to mopping the fourth-floor hallway as soon as I'm done here." she added for good measure.

"Oh, right. Well… carry on then!"

With that he took one more glance around, saw nothing suspicious, and hopped back inside his office. Fortunately, the caretaker's word was all that was needed to ease his suspicions. Because had he actually taken a closer look…

"You promised me that we would never have to do this _again_." A muffled protest emitted from an unusually large bulge protruding from underneath the girl's bathrobe.

"Oh, hush up." Frankie whispered, giving the lump a reassuring pat. "At least we didn't get caught."

"Only at the cost of our dignity, yes…"

* * *

"Okay, pal, so what's your plan?" Frankie inquired as dipped her mop in a nearby bucket. 

"It's not that much, really." Mac shrugged, crawling about on his knees and scrubbing furiously at a nasty floor stain. "I was looking through this book I found in the library, see, and-"

"Wait!" Frankie abruptly interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't you say that Bloo wanted to help out on this too?"

"Um….kinda…" Mac mumbled, looking up to shoot her an apologetic glance. "It's just that…the second I told him what we were doing, he got really excited and he kinda…well, the last time I saw him he was rushing off towards the garage, and-"

"Okay, okay, stop right there." Frankie quickly cut him off as she winced painfully. "I don't think I wanna know."

"Yeah I….anyway, I wanted to try something simple first." Mac continued.

"And that is…."

"Whatever Mr. Herriman's doing, if he's just conferencing with you, giving you an order, a criticism, comment, it doesn't matter. As soon as you start to get slightly annoyed, instead of swearing…"

"Well, _duh_." Frankie muttered under her breath.

"You start counting to ten. The way it works, see, is usually by the time you get to ten, you're not supposed to be as angry as you were before, hence you won't be ready to start cursing a blue streak the second Mr. Herriman says another word." Mac explained matter-of-factly, sounding more like a psychiatrist rather than an eight-year-old child.

Frankie leaned heavily on her mop, musing over the suggestion to herself.

"Counting to ten…..hmmmm….well, it's worth a shot, I guess."

"Whoops! Well, here's your chance!" Mac piped up, right before getting back to his scrubbing. Immediately Frankie hurriedly joined in by resuming her mopping, just in time as the large rabbit turned the corner and began to make his way down the hallway towards the pair.

"Ah, excellent!" he beamed, coming to a halt so as to watch the two studiously work away. "That's exactly the kind of work ethic I like to see around here. Well done, Miss Frances, Master Mac."

"Thanks, Mr. H." The duo replied in unison, preferring to concentrate on their duties.

"Now then, Miss Frances, I do believe that I still have a few matters I wish to discuss with you."

"Um….sure, go ahead." Frankie paused, shooting him a wary glance.

"First of all, I must apologize for the tardiness of my conferencing with you, but seeing as earlier I was interrupted by some "unexpected misbehaving", as you may wish to refer to it…."

Mac glanced up momentarily to watch as Frankie instantly tightened her grip upon her mop handle.

"One…" she began under her breath.

"…But, fortunately, I'm pleased to announce that I fully forgive you fully for your earlier transgression." Mr. Herriman continued, grinning happily.

Frankie, however, was obviously not sharing in that same joy as she momentarily bit down upon her lip, narrowing her eyes grumpily.

"Two…." She continued quietly.

"I'm afraid I must inquire though, can you give me your word that you won't continue with such disturbances in the future? It's getting to be quite a nuisance, you know, and I think we'd all be better off if you'd refrain in the future from using such language. After all, those hours you spend in the foyer certainly do little for your workload around here, as…

"F-four…." Frankie struggled to go on, while Mac could only scoot back a bit as he watched her grip her mop handle so tightly her fists were turning chalk-white.

"Um, Miss Frances?" Mr. Herriman inquired curiously. "Why on earth are you counting? Surely, you know that when I'm speaking, I prefer to have your full attention-"

Suddenly, Frankie lifted her cleaning tool and shoved it roughly into the surprised imaginary friend's face, screaming furiously at the top of her lungs,

"I'M COUNTING HOW MANY TIMES I'M GONNA TAKE THIS MOP HANDLE AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR-"

* * *

"Well, I blew _that_ pretty fast." Frankie lamented miserably as she plopped herself down in one of the cushy armchairs dotting the Foster's living room. 

"Well, at least we know that the counting method doesn't work." Mac piped up innocently as he strode into the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Blatantly Obvious." Frankie spat wearily. "What tipped you off, the twenty-minute lecture the Bunny gave me, or the two hours I just spent in time-out?"

"Hey, could you two keep it down over there?" Bloo yelled irritably as he huddled over a large pile of scrap paper, scribbling furiously with a set of crayons. "Some of us are trying to pull our weight and actually do something about our little "issue" around here!"

"Bloo, please." The caretaker just groaned. "Things are bad enough with this thing as it is, I don'' think-"

"Don't you worry, Frankie, this'll solve everything in no time!" Bloo only announced proudly, right before he hunched back over his badly scrawled ideas.

While Frankie sighed heavily in exasperation, Mac shot his imaginary friend a quizzical look.

"Uh, Bloo? What are you exactly planning to do that'll help Frankie with-"

At this, the little imaginary friend only yelped in dismay, and with a flutter of paper, he hurriedly grabbed up his "plans" and scurried out of the room in a little azure blur.

"No! No! They're not ready yet! Don't look! Don't look!" he pleaded frantically, darting off in the direction of the nearest staircase.

Mac and Frankie only stared wordlessly as the bizarre little figure made his mad exit.

"Um….okaaay, then." The redhead commented bewilderedly.

Mac just shook his head. "Don't worry, he'll forget about it as soon as he finds something shiny on the floor, I'll bet. In the meantime, try this."

Frankie squeaked in surprise as he tossed a small red object onto her lap. "What the heck?"

"It's a stress ball." The eight-year-old explained. "I found it in the toy chest."

"Oh, right!" Frankie grinned excitedly, giving the squishy ball an experimental squeeze. "Great thinking pal! So now, if the rabbit is getting on my nerves…"

"…You can just take whatever anger you're feeling out on that…" Mac continued enthusiastically.

"...And then it's no more swearing _or_ the corner for me!" Frankie squealed in delight like an excited three-year-old.

"Yeah, see? It's perfect!" Mac chirped happily.

"Oh, Mac!" The redhead beamed happily, wrapping him in a tight hug. "All my problems are solved! You're the best little brother a girl could ever ask for!"

"Ackpth! Frankie, geez! Quit it!" Mac laughed as she nuzzled him affectionately. Unfortunately, the heartwarming moment between the two siblings lasted for little more than a few seconds before-

"Miss Frances, now that you're time out is complete, I need you to sweep the second floor hallway, restock the soap in the bathrooms, trim the hedges out back, and clean out the basement." Mr. Herriman called out dutifully, not even bothering to slow down as he hopped by the doorway.

Immediately all joy disappeared from Frankie's face. In a few swift movements, she released her hold on Mac, took the stress ball, and ripped the thing clear in two with one burst of furious energy, shrieking at the top of her lungs,

"OH, YOU VILE, SLAVE-DRVIN' PIECE OF-"

* * *

"Ow…ow…ow…." 

Frankie grunted repeatedly to herself as she found herself once again placed smack in what was her eyes, the most despised corner in all of Foster's. Rubbing her aching legs furiously, the girl fidgeted about painfully as she struggled to remain in place.

"Okay, okay, I got it this time!" Mac squeaked triumphantly as he scuttled down the staircase. "This is it, this is the one we've been waiting for! Frankie I-"

"Oh God, whatever it is, tell me quickly!" Frankie whined as she squirmed about in agony. Upon seeing her grave discomfort, the excitement was instantly wiped clean from the boy's face, only to be replaced by an expression of the most severe concern.

"Frankie, you okay?" he cried worriedly, instinctively scampering over to her side.

The redhead winced as her leg muscles throbbed unmercifully, trying her best not to cause the child any panic. "Sorry about that, I'm just….I'll be okay, really, I-"

Mac however remained completely unconvinced. "Frankie, you're not looking too good. Do you want me to try and find you a-"

"Stop right this minute!" the stern warning rang out clearly through the foyer. Both Mac and Frankie whirled about in time to spot the austere-looking Mr. Herriman bound in from the dining room.

"Miss Frances!" he growled sternly, jabbing threateningly at her. "Did I say that you could turn around while-"

Frankie immediately yelped in horror and spun back into place.

"AAA! No, please! I'll be good! I'll be good! Don't add on any more minutes!" she pleaded miserably.

"I should certainly hope it doesn't come down to that." He replied with a firm nod, before directing his glance upon the eight-year-old-child present. "And you!"

"Mr. Herriman, Frankie's not-"

"Indeed, she certainly isn't leaving anytime soon, if the miscreant knows what's good for her!" The elderly rabbit interjected, wagging a finger at the child.

"No, that's not what I meant!" Mac protested furiously. "You can't keep Frankie there all day, it's not good for her-"

"Not good? Not good? I'll tell you what's not good. What's "not good" about this whole mess is that certain staff members believe that they can get away with acting as total guttermouths with absolutely no regard for the rules and the atrocious example they may be setting for our house residents!" Mr. Herriman lectured dutifully, all the while eyeing the badly squirming Frankie under a scrutinizing glare.

"Can't I get an ice pack, or something?" she whimpered pitifully.

"Oho, nice try, young lady! But rule 31 of house stature says all those who offend due to language infractions must spend time in the corner, and thus remain in the corner you shall."

"But Mr. Herriman, she can't-" Mac continued to try and argue.

"Master Mac, I am quite aware of the concern that you hold for her, and your kindness is indeed quite a model to us all. _But,_ if your legal guardian truly wants what's best for you, then I suggest you leave her be before she corrupts her charge with her foul mouth!" Mr. Herriman warned sharply.

"But-"

"It's time for you to be off, Master Mac. There's nothing more to be said here, I've stated quite clearly what has to be done." The elderly imaginary friend announced flatly, pushing the boy gently away towards the staircase. With that he turned about and hopped off into his office.

For the next few seconds, the foyer became dead silent as Mac just stared blankly into Mr. Herriman's study, slack-jawed and bug-eyed in his total disbelief at what he just heard. However, with a growl, a look of unbridled rage suddenly swept over the boy's face, and with a furious shake of his little fist, he yelled angrily,

"DAMMIT, CAN'T YOU SEE SHE'S IN PAIN, YOU NO-GOOD SLIMY-"

* * *

"…I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, oh _man,_ am I sorry." Mac apologized profusely. "I didn't mean to-" 

"Didn't mean it, huh? Welcome to _my_ world, pal." Frankie groaned miserably.

"I'm so sorry…." The boy only continued unhappily, all the while keeping his gaze fixated ahead on the wall as he served his assigned punishment alongside her.

"Look, just be honest with me for one thing here. Um, where exactly _did_ you learn that kind of language?" Frankie anxiously inquired

Mac only whimpered unhappily, stepping to the side so he could hug her leg.

"Oh _no_, please don't tell me that it was…" The girl pleaded feebly.

"S-sorry…." Mac whined once more.

"Oh, _peachy_." Frankie groaned, clasping a hand to her forehead. "I've completely corrupted the sole voice of reason in this house, that's _exactly_ what I needed to hear."

"I didn't mean it, honest." Mac whispered pitifully, cheeks burning brightly in his embarrassment.

"Shhhh." The redhead hushed, tousling his hair affectionately. "It's okay, so you got a little…um, "overexcited." You were just trying to stick up for me, that's all"

"A fat load of good _that_ did." Mac murmured, continuing to stand dead ahead as Mr. Herriman had ordered him to.

"Well, thanks anyway." Frankie whispered, turning her head briefly to flash him a warm smile. Mac glanced up to meet her gaze.

"Really?" he asked hopefully, slightly loosening his grip upon her.

"ACK!" Frankie cried in dismay as she instantly began to wobble back and forth dangerously. "Don't let go! Don't let go!"

Quickly Mac latched back onto the lanky girl's leg, bringing her swaying to a sudden halt, just like it seemed as if she was about to topple over. As her knees quivered wildly underneath her weight, she grimly supported one hand against the wall while she rested the other upon the eight-year-old's head.

"Frankie…were you using me as a support?" the boy asked incredulously.

The redhead winced as her leg muscles throbbed unmercifully. "Spending half your day standing in a corner does not do a body that much good." She put it gently.

"Um…so how long do I have to-"

"I'll put it this way. I wanted to give you a hug earlier, but I didn't because I think I've temporarily lost the ability to bend my knees."

"Ouch." The boy replied, flinching.

For the next few minutes, the pair passed the time in awkward silence, cutting a curious picture as they stared straight ahead into the particular corner, the tall young woman all the while gripping desperately onto the small child beside her to keep her balance.

"Mr. H is gonna have our heads mounted on a wall, isn't he?" Mac whined, remembering the nasty lecture he had earlier.

"Yes, Mac. Yes he is." Frankie replied rather bluntly, not even bothering to sugarcoat the issue.

"A-_HEM_!"

The sound of someone clearing his voice rang out clearly from the office nearby, following by the familiar of thumping of someone hopping their way out into the foyer.

"Well, it was nice knowing you, Mac." Frankie groaned.

"See you on the other side." Mac whispered, just as an extremely annoyed-looking rabbit exited his office and glanced over the pair sternly.

"You two!" he barked, jabbing a finger at them. "About face, now!"

Slowly the miscreants turned around, heads dropping and shoulders and sagged, obviously not prepared to take the inevitable verbal lashing they were about to receive.

"Well?" Mr. Herriman asked, tapping his foot impatiently. "What do you two have to say for yourself?

"S-sorry." Mac whispered solemnly.

"It won't happen again, we promise." Frankie promised feebly.

"Sorry doesn't do it this time, you, you rapscallions you!" Mr. Herriman exploded furiously. "Ooooh, if only I had a quarter for every time I heard that come out of your mouth, Miss Frances! Now if only I was paid for every single time you were unable to contain that vile tongue of yours, I would be able to pay our utility bills for the next ten years!"

"Oh God, _here _it comes." Frankie muttered under her breath. Meanwhile, Mr. Herriman carried on with his furious lecturing, gesturing wildly in his rage.

"Good gracious, what on earth has gotten into you, young lady? It seems I can't even give you so much as a quaint "hello" without you spewing more filth than one can find in a garbage dump! You've shown me such abominable disrespect and blatant disregard for house stature, it's simply ludicrous at this point! Really, Miss Frances, do you have any idea the atrocious model that you're setting for our house residents with this outrageous manner in which you curse so freely like a common low-life?"

"Well…" Frankie murmured, scuffing her sneaker against the floor in the manner of a guilty toddler.

"Oh, I forgot, the damage has already been done!" Mr. Herriman huffed angrily, his eyes darting in the direction of Mac. "When will it be enough, Miss Frances? When will you learn to show a hint of self-restraint? Will you not cease until you have everyone in the residence cursing a blue streak from the second they awaken to the moment they go to bed? Honesty, I expect so much more from you! From living in this house for most of your life, plus the clear fact that you have an eight-year-old child under your care, I'm simply stunned by your absolutely unacceptable behavior of late!"

"And _you_!" Mr. Herriman barked, sternly wagging a finger at Mac. "Don't think you'll be getting away scot-free from this atrocity either! Never in my life have I heard such blasphemous filth from an eight-year-old child of all people! Really, what on earth possessed you to go ahead and spew that kind of language in this household? Master Mac, I am shocked and appalled by your foul mouth!"

As the rabbit's angry bellows echoed throughout the foyer, Mac and Frankie grimly hugged each other tightly as the harsh verbal lashing continued. At this however, Mr. Herriman only shook his head furiously.

"Oh, don't you dare think for a second that I'll go easy on you just because you pull off some cutesy-routine!" he growled, gloved fists tightly clenched in austere rage. "I have had it with the both of you! I have been patient, I have done my best to show restraint, I have done everything in my power to try and go as lightly on you as humanly possible, but now, I'm at the complete end of my rope! If hour upon hour of time-out upon time-out won't do any good, then I'm afraid that I simply must take a step further, to make sure I never, ever have to deal with your disgusting guttermouths again! I'll-"

Mr. Herriman narrowed his eyes as he pointed accusingly at them, ready to announce his punishment of choice.

Frankie and Mac shut their eyes and hugged each other tightly, accepting defeat.

….and yet….in the last few seconds, none of the three had spotted Bloo plod casually into the foyer, stop in front of Mr. Herriman, and calmly raise his ball-peen hammer high, with a triumphant cry off-

"Phases one, two, and three of "Operation-Get-Frankie-Out-of-the-Corner!" INITIATE!"

_THWACK! _

"YEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" Mr. Herriman roared in agony as the little blob brought down his makeshift weapon with all the force he could muster upon one of the elderly imaginary friend's sizable rabbit feet. As soon as metal came into contact with flesh, fur and bone, a scream of pain ripped from Mr. Herriman's throat, causing his two "miscreants" to both jump in shock as his bellowing filled the hallway with an almost deafening commotion. Gritting his teeth angrily, he immediately grabbed hold of his throbbing foot and did a mad, one-legged dance of pain.

"OW!" he cried furious, leaping about awkwardly. "Ooooh, Master Blooraguard! You sneaky, no-good little-"

Whatever else he had to say, Mac at least never heard another word. Only a second after the furious rabbit opened his mouth, Frankie gasped in horror and immediately clasped her hands tightly over her little brother's ears, effectively blotting out all sound. However, but by the way Frankie continuously tightened her hands against the sides of his head as Mr. Herriman's furious rant ran on for at least it was all too easy for him to guess what was spewing from the mouth of Foster's Director of Finances.

"…AAAARRRRRGH! DO YOU HEAR ME, MASTER BLOORAGUARD?" The badly-limping Mr. Herriman roared at the top of his lungs, threatening to shake the old Victorian mansion off its foundations. "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I WILL STRING YOU UP BY YOUR-"

"Oh, I don't thing you'll be doing any of _that_." Bloo replied casually, hammer clasped behind his back and a smug grin of the most fiendish sort adorning his face. And, no sooner than once the little imaginary friend had finished his calm interjection…

"OH MY GOODNESS! BUNNY, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU _DOING_?" An outraged scream sounded from the direction of the staircase.

At this it was as if Mr. Herriman was suddenly struck mute. Immediately, he came to a dead halt in mid-limp, not daring to see whom exactly he had appalled to no end. Of course, it wasn't exactly that hard, seeing as no one called him by that peculiar nickname but…

"Good gracious, _what_ has gotten into you?" Madame Foster demanded sternly, cane clacking against wood so fast it sounded like a machine gun as she scrambled down the stairs.

"M-Madame!" her imaginary friend stuttered nervously as he turned to face her. "I…I was…."

"When in the world do _you_ use _that_ kind of language?" the old woman cried in horror.

"I…I-I…Master Bloo-" Mr. Herriman replied dumbly, feebly pointing in the direction of the broadly grinning little imaginary friend.

"Oh, so that's the way it goes?" Madame Foster cut him off with a furious wave of her cane. "First you curse up a storm with filth that wouldn't be heard in a bar, and then you try and pin the crime as soon as you get caught? Don't lie, I heard you loud and clear!"

"No Madame!" Mr. Herriman frantically denied the bitter accusation, waving his arms frantically. "P-please! You d-don't understand!"

"Well of _course_ I don't understand!" His creator yelled. "You just broke two major house rules, two of _your_ very own rules! What on earth has gotten into you? You just went on such a rampage of filthy swears, half the house probably heard!"

"No, no! I-"

"Oh in the name of all that is sacred!" Madame Foster cried in dismay, finally noticing Mac and Frankie's presence. "And of all the people you had to do it in front of! Don't you have any idea what you're probably done to the poor child? It's not as if my granddaughter has enough to worry about, with you corrupting her charge! What kind of example are you trying to set here? That of a common hooligan?"

"Madame, I just-OW! OW!" her imaginary friend yelped in pain as the old woman's arm shot up to grab firm hold of one of his floppy rabbit ears. "OUCH! Madame Foster, what on earth are you-"

"If you're going to use suck filthy language in this household, than maybe it's time you learned what it _really_ means to be filthy! Come here, Bunny, I have just the thing for you!"

"OW! No! Please! Madame, don't! Please! Please! Don't! OUCH!"

Tugging him along by the ear, the old woman dutifully dragged her wildly protesting imaginary rabbit out of the foyer, with him squirming painfully and proclaiming his innocence until they had exited down a nearby hallway.

Bloo smiled triumphantly as proudly observed his handiwork.

"Well, I think that takes care of that-_WHOA_!"

Before he could finish, Frankie darted forward and swept the little blob off the ground, wrapping him close in a tight embrace.

"Bloo!" she giggled ecstatically. "Thank you! Oh God, how can I ever repay you? Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"AAACK!" Bloo squealed in disgust as the young woman began to dot his cheeks with a barrage of sloppy thank-you kisses. "Yuck! Oh, _gross_! Quit it! Quit it!"

"Never!" Frankie only laughed as she tightened her hug. "Thank you sooo much! Thankyouthankyouthankyou…" she babbled, delirious in her relief.

Bloo meanwhile only gagged in pure disgust as he struggle in vain to remove himself from her arms, obviously not used to receiving so much affection.

"Ewww! Stop it! Mac, how the heck do you put up with _this_?" he demanded, shooting his friend a pleading glance.

Mac stared back, wide-eyed in disbelief. "Bloo, I should be asking you what made you do _that_!"

"Hey, you said Frankie needed help…"

"Yeah, but all _you_ accomplished was managing to get _Mr. Herriman_ in trouble by smacking him with a _hammer_!"

"Yeah, so?" Bloo asked.

"I thought we were trying to help _Frankie_ put a _stop_ to her _uncontrollable swearing_!" Mac protested angrily. "I don't…it doesn't seem…why did…"

Frankie only stuck out her tongue at the indignant child. "Oh, hush, you! You're just angry because you didn't think of it earlier! How can I get angry enough to curse when Mr. H is too busy with my Grandma to worry about?"

"But….still, it doesn't…I mean, a hammer?"

"Heeheehee! Man oh man, did you see that look on the rabbit's face? Haha!" the girl laughed ecstatically.

Mac sighed before finally breaking out into a grin. "Yeah, it was pretty priceless." he chuckled.

"Yeah! I rule! AAA! No more! I said knock it off!" Bloo whined as Frankie began to nuzzle him affectionately. "Gross, gross, gross! Look, Mac's over there if you're in the mood for the mushy stuff!"

"Oh no you don't!" Frankie giggled. "Bloo, you were _fantastic_! It worked! It worked! Your plan actually worked! It really…"

The girl trailed off as the joy quickly drained from her expression, only to be replaced by the must thunderstruck look.

"…_Worked_." She finished, obviously stunned.

"Oh man…" Mac whispered in total awe, realizing the full seriousness of the situation. "Bloo actually did something _right_ for once?"

"He….did." Frankie replied dazedly, staring at the little imaginary friend in her arms as if she was holding some priceless relic.

"Hey, what's the deal?" Bloo protested, placing his arms on his nonexistent hips. "First you guys are cheering for me, and then you're acting like I've never done _anything _that's worked out well before!"

"Bloo, that's just the thing. You _haven't_. _Ever_." Mac announced bluntly.

"Oh, says you!" His imaginary friend huffed indignantly, rolling his eyes. "What about the time when we were late to dinner, and….wait, no….oh, that time we went camping, and I….darn it…what about when we….when I…um…y'know…"

Bloo's eyes looked like they were ready to bug out of his sockets as soon as the truth dawned on him.

"Whoa…." He whispered, stunned beyond belief.

For a few seconds, the trio just passed nervous glances back and forth to one another, before almost in complete unison, they all gasped to shock,

"Holy _sh_-"

* * *

"Wow." Mac muttered as he plodded through the backyard. "We sure managed to make sure _that _didn't last too long." 

"Tell me about it." Frankie grumbled as she strung up her hair into a tight bun.

"Oh man…it was only one little curse!" Bloo whined as he trudged along with them unwillingly.

"That you somehow managed to utter so loudly, the mistress of the house managed to hear it as clear as a bell." Mr. Herriman reminded him dutifully as he hopped along, hefting with him a few shovels.

"Oh, like _you're_ the one who should be talking, Fuzz-butt." Frankie growled shooting him a nasty glare.

"Frankie, please don't start..." Mac whimpered unhappily

"Sorry." She murmured apologetically, giving him a reassuring pat.

"Ahem! Well, I, uh, I suppose I owe you an apology or so myself." Mr. Herriman whispered, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Frankie just waved it off with a weak grin. "That'd be nice, but maybe later, Mr. H. That is, until we finish _this_."

As she spoke, the girl waved her arm in the direction of their destination. Now, on any other day, the unicorn stables would have been nothing more than a familiar landmark on the Foster's property. But, as the four came to a dreary halt outside, at the moment the structure seemed to loom over them menacingly, like a haunted house or some God-forsaken prison.

"Well, there's no time like the present, I guess." Mr. Herriman quipped wearily as he began to pass out his load of shovels.

"Frankie?" Bloo whined piteously. "When Madame Foster was all angry at us, and she ordered us to clean out all the stables…what exactly did she mean by "all" of them?"

"Shut up, and start shoveling."

**The End**

* * *

Like I said….beware the power of boredom. 

Yeah, this was basically more than a silly story I randomly decided to start writing a few days ago. No point, no moral, just old-fashioned goofiness.

Just one thing though, when Frankie shoved Mac up her bathroom earlier in the story, mind you she was still wearing her towel as well (I don't want to give off any weird ideas about those two).

Anyway, you all know what to do! Please read and review!


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